Death in the Stars
by firestorm26c
Summary: A Sherlock/Smaug AU. Smaug is the last human-dragon left in existence- After being banished from his homeland, he must now survive on the planet Earth. He uses the name Sherlock as an undercover name, disguising who he really is. No one can know his true form- but what happens when Sherlock starts developing feelings for John Watson? His blogger and partner in crime
1. The Crimson Scale

The glistening sun shone down onto Sherlock's body as he felt it's heat seep through his clothing, gradually working its way into the flesh of his skin. The warmth of the solar flares invigorated him in ways he couldn't dare begin to explain.

He slowly held his hand up to the blazing sphere as he watched his every particle glimmer in satisfaction. His crimson red scales shone through the transparent light as he felt the sun's glow gradually revitalize him.

He pulled up the sleeve of his trench-coat, coming face to face with more of his crimson red. They stared at him like a curse, reminding him everyday of what he was. With a sigh he slowly lowered his hand from the sky, clasping it into a fist. "Shit." He whispered to himself as he climbed onto his feet.

His golden irises glowed from the wrath of the sun as he stared into the invisible stars above. He could feel his scales gradually move up his neck, becoming visible as the flesh which would usually disguise them faded away as if it had never existed.

Sherlock slowly peered over his shoulder as he felt his shoulder-blades ache. The fabric of his trench-coat screamed in undeniable desire as his mutation yearned for freedom.

The pressure of his curse spread through his fabric, pressuring it to near breaking point. The collar of his coat hugged his neck as he rapidly walked away, disguising himself from society.

His shoes crunched along the Autumn leaves which scattered the ground. He felt the fragile shades of red and orange disintegrate from mere touch as he calmly made his way back to Baker Street.

As Sherlock opened the door to his apartment, he could hear the pages of a newspaper turning. John sat inside, engrossed inside the printed text as Sherlock swiftly stormed past him- his face never left the inside of his coat, causing John to look up in confusion. He slowly folded up his newspaper, placing it by his side as he watched Sherlock slam the door behind him in anger.

Sherlock stood inside his bedroom, door locked as he stared into the mirror up ahead. His reflection stared back at him in anger- his fury matched the colour of his scales, his teeth changed into fangs and his nails changed to claws. The trench-coat he wore gingerly fell to the floor as his sharpened claws delicately fondled with the buttons of his purple button up t-shirt. His claws weaved in and out of the button holes, popping his buttons out one at a time.

As his deep purple shirt dropped from his body, he stood shirtless in-front of the mirror. His red scales took over his body as a whole, their glimmering desire showed their entirety as he couldn't help but stare.

His eyes traced over his scaled torso as it stared back at him. Large demonic wings spawned from his aching shoulders displaying their dominance. The fibers of his wings were a deep red to match the crimson on his scales; the muscular bone which held his fibers together was as black as the night-sky. The tips of his wings curved downwards, displaying two large ivory spurs- they nearly entwined with his dark curls as he slightly dropped his head back. He examined the scales gradually creeping up his neck as they stopped inside the crevice of his jaw-line.

Sherlock heard a loud knock on his door, startling him out of his tranced state. "Sherlock, is everything okay?" He heard John call out from the other-side of the wood.

The doorknob rattled as John tried to open the door separating them- but it was useless. "Sherlock! Let me inside." John repeated with slight aggravation.

"Leave me alone. I need to be alone." Sherlock called out as he took his throat into the palm of his hands, hearing his vocal chords change into something more- his voice was deeper than before, almost growling out his every word.

He could hear John's hand trace the wood of the door, slowly ghosting its way up and down its surface. "Sherlock...please..let me in."

The emotion rolling off John's tongue sent shivers down Sherlock's spine. He regretfully closed his golden eyes as the hands resting by his side turned into fists. "I'm not feeling well John. Give me a few hours to rest and I'll be good as new."

The other-side of the wood remained silent. No words were spoken but Sherlock could still feel John's presence lingering behind. The shadow of his feet extended into the room, threatening to assault Sherlock's new form at any given time.


	2. Betrayal and Deception

Sherlock opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of John's shoes drag along the wooden floor. His shadow disappeared from the room as he left it's vicinity, mumbling something of unimportance between his every step.

Sherlock exhaled a slight sigh of relief as he ran his claws through his dark curls. He could feel a particular weight being lifted from his shoulders as he gazed at his reflection staring back at him. He watched in awe as his scales slowly diminished from his body, becoming invisible once again- hiding behind nothing more than the simple flesh of his skin.

Sherlock could see his golden irises slowly swirl into a galaxy of blue. The colours of his eyes collided into each-other as their fire and ice fought for pure dominance.

The tender flesh carved out of Sherlock's body expanded from sudden pressure. His demonic wings gradually folded their way back into the sockets of his shoulder-blades, acting as if they were non-existent.

Once they were contained inside the tissue of his body, Sherlock could feel the fibers of his wings wrap themselves around his spinal cord- they took a distinct but destructive hold of his every nerve as his wings intertwined themselves around his bone- weaving in and out of his detailed structure.

He dropped onto his knees in excruciating pain. Every skin crawling sensation he felt underneath the flesh of his bones made Sherlock want to claw into his skin, pulling out this god forsaken curse once and for all.

All he wanted to do was rip those glorious wings right out of his spinal cord and burn them until there was nothing left. He wanted to watch and smell all of those small particles gradually disintegrate into smoldering ash, leaving nothing behind in their wake.

Without warning a sudden calmness suddenly overthrew Sherlock's body. He gently rested his head against the hardwood floor as he watched his reflection gape back at him in certain disapproval. Disapproval for what he had become for such a brief period of time.

Every Dragon cell in his body went into hibernation, disguising everything that he ever was and ever will be.

For such a short moment Sherlock felt like he could breathe again. He could pretend for just a little bit longer he was a man named Sherlock and not a Dragon named Smaug.

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><p>A loud but precise knock beckoned itself upon the door. The wood echoed as each sound shot through the air, piercing ears which sat inside.<p>

"Come in." A composed voice called out.

The door opened quietly, introducing a young female into the room. As she promptly paced over to the man, she couldn't help but stare- his posture was immaculate, legs were crossed over one another as he read the daily newspaper for the first time that day. His hair was a sleek brown to compliment the posh suit he wore, which he obviously indulged in.

"So, why are you here Anthea?" Mycroft impatiently asked, lowering the newspaper from his face.

"We have found Sherlock Holmes." She paused for a moment, waiting for a response, but it never came. "Sir, what should we do?"

Mycroft's eyes glowed in anger as he clenched the newspaper he was reading within the palm of his hands. "You have found Sherlock Holmes- my brother? Where is he? Tell me right now."

Mycroft's intimidation shot through Anthea like a double-edged sword. Her jaw gaped open to speak, but no words came out- no matter how hard she tried.

"Anthea!" Mycroft yelled as he threw his crumpled newspaper to the floor, storming onto his feet.

"H-he's in Central London. Baker Street. But I must warn you, he isn't alone."

Mycroft's face suddenly turned to confusion as he paced towards Anthea's body. His face almost brushed against hers as his breath expanded across her face. His eyes glowed in fury as his aggressive voice began to speak. "Say that to me one more time. Who is he with?"

"A man named John Watson. Don't worry- he's just an everyday civilian. And from my understanding he doesn't know about anything."

Mycroft stepped back, placing his hands inside the pockets of his pants. "Good. He better keep it that way. I want Sherlock in my possession momentarily. Don't waste anymore time."

Anthea simply nodded, spinning on her heels towards the exit. "I'll be in contact soon, . Please- try not to worry."

Mycroft simply snarled at her back, picking up the crumpled newspaper from his marble floor. He straightened out the text of his reading material as he sat back down in his chair. He opened up the creased paper, resuming his daily read as if nothing had disturbed his peaceful tranquility.

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><p><strong>Reviews are greatly appreciated. Any feedback at all. :)<strong>


	3. Smaug Meets Fudar

John took a sip of his tea as his eyes peered over the rim of his cup. He read the last page of his newspaper, momentarily folding it up as he finished.

His eyes traced the room as he pursed his lips in boredom. He subconsciously found himself tapping his fingers along the fabric of his pants as he waited for Sherlock's boisterous body to break into the room- but it never came.

Just as John was about to lift himself out of his chair, he heard a door creak open. He looked towards Sherlock's bedroom, watching a figure stagger out of the darkened room.

The walls he traced his hands over gave him false support but he somehow managed to clamber his way over to John's armchair, plonking himself down into it without a word.

Upon seeing Sherlock's state, John immediately ran over to him as he dropped to the firmness of his knees. "Sherlock. What's the matter? You've been acting off ever since you came home."

Sherlock's blue met with John's hazel green- their eyes interlocked, not letting go of one-another. "Just give me five minutes." He mumbled under the roughness of his breath.

John slowly bowed his head as he sighed in annoyance. "No. I'm not going to give you five minutes. What the bloody hell is happening with you? You've been off ever since you walked in that damn door."

"John..please- not now. Don't ask me this now."

John furrowed his brow in confusion and frustration. He slowly climbed onto his feet, taking a step away from Sherlock's presence. "Sherlock...what aren't you telling me?" He nervously asked, threading his fingers through the strands of his ash-blonde hair.

"John-"

Before Sherlock had the chance to continue his sentence, he heard a loud but distinct knock on the door. That one noise absorbed his every ounce of attention as he proceeded to ask himself- who was on the other-side?

John looked down at Sherlock as fury ate away at him, pulling him apart like a Vulture would its prey. He gave a slight snarl before walking over to the door to answer it.

As John opened the black wood, he came face to face with a young brunette woman wearing all black. She momentarily introduced herself without delay, skipping straight to the point of why she was here."Hello. You're John Watson I presume? My name is Anthea. I'm here to pick-up Sherlock Holmes."

"W-what? You're here to pick up Sherlock? I-I don't even know who you are..."

"I told you. My name is Anthea and I work for the British Government. Now, I won't ask you again- I'm here to pick up Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock sat inside, peeking his head over the chair as he continued to zone in on their conversation.

John took a step back as he tried to find his voice. His throat constricted, struggling to speak. "You work for the British Government? What does the Government want with Sherlock?"

Anthea gave a slight chuckle, looking at John as if he was a lost puppy looking for his home- unaware if his surroundings. "I'm afraid that is confidential, Mr. Watson."

Sherlock sighed as he rolled his eyes. He lazily leaped out of his chair, feeling a sudden burst of energy shoot through him like lightning. He strolled over to Anthea, extending his arm for shaking. "Sherlock Holmes at your request, Ma'am."

She shook Sherlock's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you ." She paused for a moment, staring at Sherlock's body as a whole- she wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn't this- a tall, lanky body with curls as glorious as the night-sky, his blue eyes acting like moons as they illuminated the entirety of his pale face.

When Sherlock released his firm grasp, it suddenly snapped Anthea out of her tranced state. "Now, if you would please come with me, Mr. Holmes."

Anthea paced down the cement to the luxurious black car parked by the curb. She could feel Sherlock behind her, closely following behind as he examined her every step and detail.

John could only helplessly watch as Sherlock climbed into the black, tinted window car. The windows made it nearly impossible for John to see Sherlock inside. He attempted to squint his eyes, adjusting his vision to the darkness- but it was no use. The car had already sped off down the busy road of Baker Street without a single explanation.

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><p>Mycroft sat inside the building, composed as always. He stared blankly at the wall in-front of him as a million thoughts flooded his mind like a lethal poison.<p>

The quietness of the room soon became no more, as the door gently creaked open, revealing Anthea and Sherlock in it's wake.

Mycroft's head turned so fast he was sure damage had been done. He glared at the both of them while his face unleashed a mischievous smile. His emotions were in conflict- one side of him was partly happy but upon seeing Sherlock in person- it caused his fury combust into invisible flames.

"Thank-you, Anthea. You done well. Please leave us now." Mycroft calmly said.

They both watched as Anthea left the room, leaving them to stand alone. They stared at one another- so many words wanted to be spoken, but neither of them could find the right ones to say.

Sherlock hesitantly gulped as he paced forward, meeting with the eyes of his Brother. "Fudar...y-you're alive?" Sherlock nervously stuttered in shock.

A cross brow met with Sherlock's face as Mycroft hastily stormed over to his being. He stood just centimeters away from Sherlock's body as his breath expanded over the expanse of his face. "Hello, Smaug. My dearest brother…we meet again."

Sherlock outstretched his neck, trying to avoid Mycroft's vile breath, but only resulting in failure. "Fudar...what are you doing here?"

Mycroft's mouth traced along the side of Sherlock's face, his warm breath cascaded onto his face, running down his jaw-line in fearful trepidation.

"Smaug..we need to talk."


	4. Broken Wings

"T-talk? Talk about what?" Sherlock nervously stuttered.

"Don't act like you don't know."

Sherlock watched as Mycroft backed away, each step agonizingly tenser than the last. "Please, take a seat...Sherlock. Since that's what you call yourself these days."

Sherlock hesitantly approached Mycroft's body. His legs were crossed as he waited for Sherlock to make himself comfortable. Sherlock felt himself growing tense around his brother, this was one confrontation he wasn't looking forward too.

"You think you can just run-away, do you? Fall to Earth and take on a new identity?" Mycroft sipped at the rim of his tea-cup as he waited for Sherlock's answer. But it never came.

"L-look..Fudar..p-please..you have to understand."

Mycroft smashed his tea-cup to the floor causing the brown liquid to seep into the white marble. "Understand?! Smaug...there are no _words_ you could possibly say to me that will make me understand what _you_ done."

Sherlock looked slightly taken back, but his brother's rage didn't surprise him. He straightened his posture out along the back of the chair as he felt his undeniable guilt eat away at his very core.

"Fudar...please.."

"_Just..don't_. I can't believe you done that. You fell from Middle Earth to live a normal civilian life? You're pathetic." "You can't even stand by us in a war!"

Sherlock glared at Mycroft- his eyes glowed that same golden colour he tried so hard to disguise. His fingernails had slowly turned into claws as he subconsciously dug into the suede material underneath the firmness of his grip. "Don't you dare judge me for what I done. What was I supposed to do? Stand by and watch our planet burn to ashes?!"

"Yes! That's exactly what you were supposed to do. Because we don't leave our alliance behind, Smaug! You can't just fall to Earth and blend into society. You're a dragon! The sooner you get that through your thick head, the better."

Sherlock furiously shook his head as the invisible flames inside his core started to ignite. He stared into Mycroft's golden eyes, they glowed like the sun shining through a bottle of aged whiskey as they glimmered against the sunlight. "I can't believe you. You have no right to abuse me in that manner. You should be taking a good look at yourself."

Mycroft chuckled in amusement as he stared along the expanse of Sherlock's neck. His crimson scales were slowly crawling up the flesh of his skin. "Trust me, if it wasn't for you- I wouldn't be here."

"No-one forced you to fall, Fudar. You done that on your own account."

Mycroft's face unleashed a savage snarl as he watched his figure gradually transform into something more. Sherlock could only stare in awe as Mycroft's silver scales slowly enveloped the expanse of his face. "You're my brother, Smaug. _My brother_. And I am not going to sit by and watch you roam this wretched Earth." Mycroft paused as he tried to find the right words to say. "I watched you fall- that fall could have killed you! Do you expect me to just stay in Middle Earth and watch you die?"

"Well, I'm not dead, am I? I survived."

Mycroft snickered as he stared at Sherlock's roaming scales, they gradually creeped their way along every bare piece of flesh he had visible. "You survived..._just_. I saw how you fell, Smaug. - Your wings...they were disintegrated. Tell me, how long did it take for them to grow back?"

Sherlock cleared his throat as his claws tapped along the surface of the chair he sat on. "Three months." He hesitantly said, gulping in fear.

"Three months? That pain..it must have been excruciating."

"That's an understatement." Sherlock paused as he stared at his scaled hands. "But you don't need to deduce the pain, do you Fudar? You have already experienced it. When I fell, I had a man come and rescue me, but who rescued you?"

Mycroft peered over his shoulder, staring at the shut door as he spoke. "Anthea did. She found me on the road, bleeding...I was in agony. Hell. I thought I was going to die."

"She saved you?"

"Yes. And she also knows _what_ we are. You don't need to hide your form around here. After all, I am the British Government."

"And do you care to explain to me _how_ you became the British Government? How long have you been on Earth for?"

"I have been here ever since you fell! I have been searching for you for one year, Smaug. One goddamn year!"

Mycroft brought his clenched fists crashing down to the armrests of his chair as fury ate away at him. His hidden fangs became visible as he deliberately retracted them, displaying his anger in an instant. "Why do you think I became the British Government? To find YOU. It was the only way."

"Fudar..I-I didn't know..I'm sorry."

"But that's just like you, Smaug...isn't it? You would prefer to run-away then face up to your responsibilities."

"My responsibilities? What are you talking about?"

"Smaug...there is a war in Middle Earth. You are more than aware of that. That's why you fell. And now, there's no going back for either of us." Mycroft rose to his feet as he began to rapidly pace around Sherlock's body. "Tonight when you look up at the stars, I want you to think of the planet you selfishly ran away from."

Sherlock's eyes interlocked with Mycroft's gold. They both stared at each-other. Their scaled bodies glimmered under the sun of the solar flares as they shone through the window. Fangs showed their entirety as their ivory claws threatened to attack.

"Don't make me angry Fudar. I will not hesitate to hurt you."

"My dear brother, do not intimidate me with your petty insults. The fall might not have killed you, but I can assure you- I will."


	5. One Dragon- Two Dragon

**My apologizes for the lack of updates+ the short chapter. But I hope you enjoy! :)**_  
><em>

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><p>Mycroft pinned Sherlock to the wall behind as his claws slowly dug into his hipbones. His pupils death stared Sherlock with intimidation as the feel of his wings gradually releasing themselves become apparent.<p>

"Mycroft! You can't kill me. You fell to save me-"

"You're right. I did. But, now I'm wishing I didn't. There is nothing on this planet for us. Do you want to know what I see when I look at Earth and the people inhabiting this land?"

"What?"

"I see death, destruction, greed and pure chaos- that's what I see. Tell me Smaug, what do you see here?"

Sherlock outstretched his neck against the wall as Mycroft's claws moved along the veins of his jugular. "I see a lot of things. Humans...they are...fascinating."

Mycroft's claws slowly pierced into Sherlock's flesh as he spoke "So, you look at the homosapiens and see intriguement. I look at them and see...corruption."

"They're not corrupted. It's called emotion. Even we have emotion Fudar."

"Hm. I suppose you're right.."

Mycroft stepped back as his wings yearned for freedom. His fingers slowly undone the buttons of his shirt as he paced towards his chair.

Sherlock was left behind against the wall as if an invisible force was holding him there. Mycroft's shirt slowly fell the floor as Sherlock's eyes widened in awe. His silver scales enveloped the expanse of his back as they glimmered under the light of the sun. The way they draped along the floor made Sherlock speechless.

"You're wings...they're-"

"Bigger. Yes, I know."

"How?"

"I don't know. They simply grew back this way." Mycroft said as he began to pour himself a pint of whiskey. "Like I said. You don't need to hide your form around here. This is a safe zone, and it's the only one you'll have. Express yourself while you've got the chance."

Sherlock somehow managed the strength to unstick himself from the wall. As he made his way over to Mycroft's being he stripped himself from his trench-coat and shirt. As they cascaded to the floor below his red and black wings revealed themselves as a whole.

"Good. That's what I like to see- my brother. Not Sherlock Holmes."

"Hm. I quite like the name Sherlock Holmes."

Mycroft chuckled at Sherlock's remark as he swirled his glass of whiskey in his hand."And what about John? Does he know what you really are?"

"No. And he isn't ever going to know."

"You can't keep it hidden forever. It's going to slip up sooner or later."

"I have managed to keep it hidden for a year. What makes you think I will slip up now?"

"Because..you can't keep it hidden forever."

Before Sherlock was given the chance to speak, they were soon interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in." Mycroft called out as he clawed the armchair he sat on.

The door creaked open, showing Anthea on the other-side. Her eyes widened from the sight of the scaled pair.

"It's okay, Anthea. Don't be scared." Mycroft said as he put his empty glass of whiskey on the coffee table.

As the door closed behind Anthea, her footsteps echoed throughout the room. "May I get you anything sir?" She timidly asked while she stared at Sherlock's crimson scales.

"No. But you can take my dear brother home once his form fades."

Anthea politely nodded as she held her hands behind her back. "As you wish."

Sherlock rose to his feet and picked up his puddle of clothes. As he pulled his clothes on over his scales he waited for the agonizing pain of his retracting wings to hit him, but thankfully it never came. Sherlock soon adjusted himself to the sensation of his wings as they wrapped their way around his spinal cord- they went back into hibernation, entwining themselves into his every vertebrae.

"Hm. I see you're dealing with your pain far better than I am."

"Well, it does take time for our new wings to adjust to our bodies. Trust me, when I say this- there have been times where I have been a quivering mess because of the agony this curse has thrusted upon me."

"Curse? You call this a curse? We are the last two Dragons of Middle Earth. How dare you disrespect our species."

Sherlock pulled the collar of his trench-coat up into its rightful position as he walked towards the door where Anthea was waiting. "And tell me, who am I disrespecting?"

"All the Dragons who died before us…"

Sherlock snickered into the air as he reached into the pocket of his trench-coat. His fingers were met with a cigarette as he placed it between his lips. The fire from his lighter released its toxic chemicals into the air as he strode out of the room, with Anthea following close behind.


	6. This is Magic

Once Sherlock arrived home, he was met with John. He sat in place, calm and collected as he watched Sherlock shut the front door behind him.

"You're back.."

"Yes. I am."

"The British Government? Really?"

"I'm afraid so."

John cupped his hands over his crossed legs as he watched Sherlock's figure slowly approach. "And, tell me Sherlock. What would the British Government want with you?"

Sherlock bowed his head, feeling a sense of guilt eat away at him. He couldn't tell John the truth- he wouldn't. He has avoided this question for one year, and he wasn't going to let his brother ruin everything he had tried so hard to keep secret.

"Well.." Sherlock paused for a moment as he scratched the back of his head with a smile. "They have a case for us." He lied, trying his best not to let it show.

"A case? Well, why didn't they talk to me too?"

Sherlock walked up to John and poked his finger against his chest as he spoke. "Because you're my blogger."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at John's silence as he shimmied his way past him and into the kitchen, where he set the kettle to boil. "So, did you get up to anything interesting while I was away?" Sherlock asked as he threw a tea bag into two mugs.

"Nothing at all. Just sitting here...waiting for you to get back."

"That sounds absolutely riveting." Sherlock replied in a sarcastic tone.

As Sherlock walked out to the lounge room, mugs in hand; he placed one by John's side before sitting down and letting out a sigh of relief. "You know what, I'm glad to be home." Sherlock said as he brought the rim of his cup to his mouth.

"I'm glad you're home too. I was bored out of my brains sitting here."

Sherlock chuckled at John's response as he sat his tea cup on his knee. "John, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you can..You don't have to ask me."

"Do you believe in magic?"

"Ma-magic? What do you mean?"

Sherlock smirked as he leaned forward, staring into John's ocean of green. "Do you ever read a book or watch a movie, and wish it was real?"

"Y-yeah..of course I do. Why are you asking me this?"

"Because..one day...it might be an important question to know the answer too.."

John sat back inside his chair as he watched Sherlock drink from the rim of his cup. "Why would it be important?"

"No reason. No reason at all."

Sherlock smiled as he reached down beside the lounge. He picked up his beloved violin and perched the instrument underneath his chin where he delicately dragged its bow across its soft, taut strings, emitting a graceful but serene melody into the air.

"You know, you can't just play the violin and assume I'm going to brush that question off."

"Please, do not dwell over it. I was attempting to make conversation- obviously an area I do not expertise in."

John shook his head in amusement as Sherlock's beautiful melody continued to reverberate throughout the room. But, little did John know, what the song was. Sherlock wrote it- the chords which he played represented his hidden feelings about John. But that was, yet again, another secret he had to struggle to keep hidden daily.

Sherlock knew, one day he would tell John everything..eventually. He didn't know when that day would come, but he assumed fate would step in and eventually and lead him into the right direction. All he needed to do was wait for day where he could finally express who he really was, and only then would he be able to rest.

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><p>The next day came faster than originally anticipated. Sherlock stood in front of his bathroom mirror, staring at his deceptive reflection as it stared back at him. He quickly toed off his shoes and got undressed as he turned on the shower, waiting for it's temperature to be just right. As he slipped inside, the warm water instantly ran down the expanse of his body, invigorating him as a whole.<p>

Being a Dragon meant loving the heat, and England was not the best candidate for such weather, but sometimes it sufficed.

Sherlock pressed the palm of his hands against the white tiles as he felt the water run through his curls and down his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in every ounce of heat while it lasted.

The water soon stopped as Sherlock reluctantly turned it off. He stepped out of the shower, shaking himself dry as water droplets from his hair flung in every direction. As he pulled his clothes on for the day, he heard a knock on the door.

"Sherlock..are you done yet?"

Sherlock walked to the door while buttoning up his white t-shirt. John stood on the other side, gazing wildly at Sherlock's body. The way his wet curls draped over his face and his half open shirt yearned for an undeniable freedom, nearly sent John over the edge.

"I'm done." Sherlock said as he leaned against the wooden framework. "Yeah, I'm definitely done."

John gazed into Sherlock's blue as he waited for him to move, but he just stood there in silence.

"You know what.." Sherlock began as he folded his arms over his chest. "I do believe in magic."

"Wh-what?"

Sherlock straightened out his posture as his arms fell by his side. "But..that's not all I believe in." He said as his fingers slowly brushed against the hairs of John's arm.

That touch, John had been longing for, for so bloody long sent a shiver down his spine as he returned the gesture softly, brushing his fingers along Sherlock's knuckles.

Sherlock looked down at John's motion as they slowly began weaving their fingers in and out of one another. "John, do you believe in us?"

"I will always believe in us Sherlock.." John replied as he attempted to fight the sudden lump which had formed in his throat.

Sherlock brought himself closer to John, staring down at him seductively as their foreheads brushed up against one another. "And if I were to kiss you..what would you do?"

"The only thing I could do.."

Sherlock eased his face down onto John's, as their lips painfully hovered over one another. "And what would that be?" Sherlock asked as his warm breath brushed against John's.

"I'd kiss you back."

Sherlock smiled as he pushed John's lips onto his own. The feeling they were both sharing was like fireworks. John bit down onto Sherlock's lip, begging him for entry as their hands wildly rubbed against each other. Sherlock soon obliged to John's request, letting his tongue slide against his own, giving him the best mouth-fuck he could ever imagine.

Sherlock lifted John up into his arms, letting his legs wrap around his abdomen. He violently pushed John up against the nearby wall as their tongues never left each-others reach. "Fuck." Sherlock whispered under his breath as the fabric of his shirt suddenly fell into a puddle on the floor.

John suddenly broke their heated kiss. "I think we should continue this in the bedroom." He said as he wrapped the palm of his hands around the broadness of Sherlock's shoulders.

"Are you sure you really want to do this?"

"I have never been more certain of anything in my life."


	7. Trust Binds All

Sherlock slowly lowered John down onto the bed as he stared at him almost viciously. Sherlock's fingers slowly threaded their way over the fabric of his shirt as he unhooked the buttons of his shirt one hole at a time.

"How long have you felt this way, John?" Sherlock asked as his fingers gently caressed the expanse of his bare chest.

"As soon as I laid eyes on you." John said with a pause as he tried to wrap his tongue around a new collection of words. "When I saw you lying on that road..in agony..I knew I couldn't just leave you there."

Sherlock slowly creeped further over John's length as they seductively gazed into each-other eyes.

"May I ask you the same question?" John asked.

"I was lying on the road in absolute pain and you saved me. I was barely conscious until I felt the warmth of your hands slowly bring me back to life. I could feel the cells inside of me dying while my life-form slowly turned to ash."

"Wh-what are you talking about Sherlock?"

Sherlock slowly bowed his head as he snickered into the crisp air. The feel of John's hand lightly stroking his cheek caused their eyes to lock into each-other again as John gasped at the mere sight.

"Y-your eyes.."

"Yes. They're golden."

John opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The padding of Sherlock's thumb gently touched John's lip in a gesture to stop any words from seeping out.

"It's time you knew who I really am. It has been one year. I have hidden myself from you for one year."

Sherlock's lips fell onto John's like a magnet binding them together. The sudden explosive feeling they both endured sent invisible fireworks into the air as John's hands tugged at the base of Sherlock's curls. Sherlock's mouth swallowed every moan which escaped John's mouth, almost as if they nonexistent.

"John." Sherlock said as the feeling of John's teeth tugged at his bottom lip. "I need you to brace yourself."

Suddenly Sherlock's wings exposed themselves entirely. They enveloped around John as a whole as he captured him within his demonic fibres. As John blinked he broke their heated kiss, speechlessly gazing at the man who loomed over him. The wings securely holding him in place twitched from mere touch as Sherlock's crimson scales creeped over the expanse of his neck and arms.

"This is who I am John. My name isn't Sherlock.."

"Wh-who are you then?"

"My name is Smaug and I am a hybrid- half human...and half Dragon."

"Dragon?"

"Yes." Sherlock said as his claws gently stroked the side of John's face. "John, I'm not from this land. I come from a planet far far away and it is known to my people as Middle Earth."

John remained underneath Sherlock speechless as he felt his smooth scales softly rubbed against his bare skin. He was trying so hard to wrap his head around the facts which were just spoken, but nothing in his logical mind could possibly comprehend what he had just been told.

"I know..you must be so confused..to see me like this."

"I-I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Just believe me."

John reached up to stroke the side of Sherlock's cheek. He watched as his eyes snapped shut from the mere sensation. "Of course I believe you."

Sherlock's lips painfully hovered over John's as he slowly eased himself off his body."I don't think we should do this. Not tonight."

"Perhaps another time.."

"What? I just told you I'm half dragon, practically a walking lie, and you're still attracted to me?"

"Sherlock-"

"Smaug."

"Right. Smaug. Just listen to me. Yes, I am upset you lied to me. But I also know you're not going to express to me who you really are unless a form of trust has been formed first. And if that has taken you one year to form that sense of trust- then so be it."

"You know..you're different John. The sight of me..and who I am would have most people running scared- but not you."

"You will never scare me. I can assure you of that."

Sherlock surprisingly pouted his lips as he stared at his feet, feeling uncertain of what to say. "John...thank you." He finally said as his golden eyes swirled into a galaxy of blue.


	8. Smoldering Ash

The smoldering cigarette left Sherlock's mouth as he blew a toxic ring of smoke out from between his lips. He watched as John sat on the other side of him-looking him up and down as shock finally started to settle in.

"I'm still curious." Sherlock said. "I just revealed to you I'm a Dragon. But-"

"But what?" John snapped.

Sherlock put his cigarette into the nearby ashtray as he spoke. "But, you were so calm. Why?"

John shook his head as he folded his arms over his knees. The fireplace in the foreground strongly burned as its luminous flames weaved in and out of each other. Their shadows danced across the expanse of John's skin as Sherlock patiently awaited his reply.

"I-I don't know why. I have seen a lot of things Sherlock. I have endured things most men wouldn't even think about." John sighed as he wrapped his arms around the base of his abdomen. "So, I suppose as a result, I have become this person who is resilient to a lot of things-"

"So, you're saying you're just well adjusted than?" Sherlock questioned.

John sighed as he stared into the dancing flames. "I don't know what I am. All I know is that what you showed me was definitely unexpected, but it didn't scare me."

"Why not?"

"Because underneath all those scales and claws- it was still you. You're still Sherlock to me, and you always will be."

Sherlock let out a half breathed snicker as he stared into the dancing flames. He became consumed by their heat and passion as he fell into the deep dark depths of his tangent mind.

* * *

><p><em>Sherlock could remember the war in Middle Earth like it was yesterday. The fire burned hot as he stood his ground, not giving up without a fight. His wings were released while his scales shimmered underneath the light of the deadly flames.<em>

_Ash rained down on them as he felt Fudar place a gentle grasp around the broadness of his shoulders. "Smaug..we must fight." He said._

_"And if I don't?"_

_"You'll die."_

_Smaug walked forward as he watched war break out in-front of his very eyes. The fire continued to spread faster than he could comprehend as every known species of Middle Earth fought to the death. Blood spattered the ground as weapons met in brutal mayhem._

_"Brother..you can't make me do this."_

_"I will. You're going to fight Smaug. Our remaining siblings are dead. So you're not going to be a coward and run away from this! Middle Earth needs you more then ever right now."_

_Smaug's wings flinched as the heat seeped through his fibers. He looked down at the ashen grass as he contemplated what his next move would be._

* * *

><p>Suddenly the sound of John's voice snapped Sherlock out of his tangent mind. He shook his head in surprise as he was re-met with John's eyes.<p>

"Are you alright? You zoned out there for a bit." John said.

"I'm fine. I was just thinking."

John pursed his lips as he subconsciously gazed around the room. He could see the fire gradually growing smaller as Sherlock continued to stare into its fiery abyss. John wasn't quite sure what to do or say. He couldn't help but stare as Sherlock's mind slowly melted away inside itself, grasping onto every memory he has.

"You know..you said we have a case. We could work on it?"

"A case?" Sherlock said as he laughed in amusement. "There was no case."

John furrowed his brow with confusion as his fingernails clawed the fabric of his pants. "What do you mean there's no case?"

"It's called lying John. The British Government didn't want to see me because of a case."

"Then why did they want to see you?"

"Well, as it turns out, my dear brother works for the government now. Isn't that thrilling?" Sherlock sarcastically replied.

John grasped his throat as he felt it suddenly constrict in shock. "Bro-brother?" He managed to blurt out.

"Yes. Brother. And I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes."

John's jaw gaped open slightly as he swallowed what saliva he could to quench his sudden thirst. The mere thought of two dragons roaming this Earth sent a shiver down John's spine as he felt his clammy hands stick to the fabric of his pants.

"Your brother..is a dragon too?"

"Yes."

"And he works for the British Government?"

"Yes."

John sat back in his chair as he stared at Sherlock with a smirk. The two of them suddenly burst out laughing at the same time as they couldn't contain themselves. John unbelievably shook his head inside the palm of his hands while he spoke. "Great. A dragon is in charge of the British Government. I'm sure that's going to end well." He said.

Their laughter slowly died down to silence as they both smirked at one another. Without hesitation, John lifted himself out of his chair. His feet pattered along the hardwood floor as he fell to Sherlock's side. He felt Sherlock's arm snake its way around his back as his head gently rested on his shoulder. They laid together in silence while watching the last flame of the fire slowly go out.


	9. Home

"_Smaug. What do you think you're doing?" Fudar snarled as he reached out to grasp Smaug's hand. "You can't go." _

"_Let go of me, Fudar. I will go. I'm not staying here to watch our planet burn." _

"_So, you're just going to fall to Earth and be disloyal?" _

"_That's exactly what I'm going to do." _

_As Smaug snatched his way out of Fudar's grasp as he slowly walked away from the burning fire. He could feel the ashen wind blow against his hair as he stared into the distance with determination._

* * *

><p>John reached up to stroke Sherlock's face, instantly snapping him out of his tangent mind. As Sherlock directed his full attention onto the man in-front of him, he held the palm of John's hand within his own.<p>

"John. What are we going to do now?" Sherlock asked as he lightly caressed the fine particles of John's skin. "Now that you know what I am, and my brother-"

"Shh. Sherlock. Stop it. I don't care what you are. And as for your brother, I have never met him. And I don't care what _he_ is either."

Sherlock gently fondled with the fingers in his grasp. "Most people wouldn't be so understanding. I'm surprised."

"Yeah, well- I'm not most people, am I?"

Sherlock snicked in amusement as the two of them firmly interlocked their fingers together. "I guess not. You are John Watson after all- your own individual soul."

The two of them sat in silence for a moment as they stared at their bound fingers. They could feel the heat searing through the glass as they gazed into each other's eyes, letting their emotions siphon off any possible words for speaking.

"John-" Sherlock finally said as he bowed his head. "I don't know what to do now. Please, tell me what to do."

John couldn't find an answer. All he wanted to do was hold Sherlock tight and never let go. He didn't know Sherlock's history, and he felt like that was a part of his life he was never going to know.

"Sherlock, I'm not sure. I'm sorry. I wish I knew."

"My planet is almost destroyed. I can feel it in my veins and under my bones."

John sat forward as if the words which were just spoken controlled him. "What do you mean, almost destroyed? You can't stay hidden forever."

"I have been on Earth for one year and no one has noticed- not even you. I think I can manage to pull off a few more, don't you?"

John planted a kiss onto Sherlock's lips which caused him to close his eyes. These sensations which flowed through his body like a gushing river put his mind into overdrive. "Yeah. I think you can pull off staying a dragon for many more years to come."

Sherlock held onto the back of John's head. He gently threaded his fingers through the coarseness of his hair as they kissed each other in undeniable passion.

* * *

><p>Mycroft quietly sat inside his office with steepled fingers. As he sucked in a deep breath, he calmly stirred the cup of tea waiting for him on his desk.<p>

"Sir, I come with news." Anthea said as she entered the room.

"And what is it?"

"It's John Watson. He knows."

Mycroft's eyes widened as he stopped stirring his cup of tea. His shocked gaze met with Anthea's as she waited for her next order- not knowing what to do next. She could feel the tension seep into the air, gradually strangling every ounce of oxygen there was. The two of them held their breath for what felt like an eternity- neither of them wanting to let go.

"And that's not all the news." Anthea continued. "John Watson- he knows about you."

"So, my dearest brother not only revealed himself, but me too?"

"I'm afraid so." Anthea replied.

Mycroft slowly staggered himself over to his two seater lounge where he placatingly sat inside. The feel of the soft velvet against his skin caused him to subconsciously rub his fingers against the soft fabric- not knowing what to do next.

"Anthea." Mycroft said as he reluctantly closed his eyes"My fall should never of happened. I need to go home. I need to protect Middle Earth before it's too late."

Anthea slowly bowed her head as she took a step backwards. "I'll see what I can do." she said before walking out the door.

In that instance, Mycroft felt like the Earth around him had stopped turning. He felt like everything was suddenly broken as he stared out the window. He watched the leaves blow as the howl of the wind carried them away. But Mycroft knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

He trusted Anthea, and he trusted that she would help him find his way back home. He should of never of turned his back on that burning sphere in the sky. Middle Earth was his home. Nothing was ever going to change that.


	10. One Sky- One Destiny

The moon in the sky shone bright as Sherlock slouched by the windowsill. He gazed up at the littered stars as each one told a different story.

"It's up there, John." Sherlock said as John hugged a pillow on the nearby lounge. "It's up there. And it's burning."

John looked over at Sherlock as he watched his eyes scan the sky above. "Well, do you want to go home?" he asked.

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak as he felt conflictions eat away at his answer. His answer couldn't be a simple yes or no because he wanted both. He wanted to be back in Middle Earth where he belonged, but he knew he would never be welcome home again. He was with John now, and that's all that mattered.

"I want to be with you, John. Because home is where the heart is- right?"

John threw his pillow to his side as he pushed himself off from the lounge. He made his way over to Sherlock where he threaded their fingers together, indulging in his every touch.

"Right." John concluded as he slowly leaned his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

The two of them stood there for hours, gazing into the night sky. They would occasionally share a glance at one another, but the two of them were enjoying the silence and tranquility, and most of all, they were enjoying each other.

* * *

><p>Mycroft walked away from his bedroom window. His claws slid over the polished wood as he made his way over to his bed. The satin like material felt soft against his skin as Mycroft gently rubbed it back and forth.<p>

His mind escaped him for a moment, he thought about Middle Earth, he thought about when everyone used to be happy. He thought about a time when there was no war, or blood shed- a time which still feels so ancient.

As Mycroft pulled back his red satin bed sheets, he heard a knock beckon itself upon the door. It was Anthea.

"So, you have been researching all day? Yes? Have you found anything?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"Well, keep looking. There has to be a way back. I'm not going to let it end like this."

"Sir….suppose there isn't a way back? What will you do?"

Mycroft didn't even know the answer to that question himself yet. He didn't want to believe this was it. That this life was going to be the end. He wouldn't let it. He would try anything to try and get back to Middle Earth. He would try anything.

"Anthea. If I can fall from Middle Earth, I can go back. I don't know how, but there has to be a way."

Anthea didn't say anything. She simply backed away and closed the door behind her. She knew Mycroft's hope was wishful thinking. And she wasn't feeling very optimistic about it, because she knew that Mycroft had no chance of getting home- but she couldn't bare to tell him that. But she knew. She had done vigorous research and communication for hours on end, and she soon she found out that there was no hope for him.

He's going to stay alive on Earth for hundreds of years. He's going to be standing down here on this wretched planet while his home remains burning- because it's never going to stop burning. The cycle will never stop burning as long as long as the two last dragons live. Smaug and Fudar are the only two things keeping Middle Earth alive, and once they die, everyone on Middle Earth dies.

It's not something which can be explained with ease. A dragons connection with Middle Earth is so strong, they have become one. It wasn't the species of Middle Earth who thrusted the war upon themselves- it was death. The dragons of Middle Earth slowly died one by one. And each time one did pass away, the planet would slowly burn as if their heated scales dissolved into the its core one at a time.

There was no way back. She was certain of that now.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock..can you promise me something?" John said while staring into Sherlock's eyes.<p>

"Anything."

"Promise me that you'll never leave me. Promise me that no matter what happens we will be together forever and nothing is going to get in the way."

"John, I think you know the answer to that."

"I know..but please, just say it."

"I promise. I'm not leaving you and I never will. For as long as those stars shine bright in the sky- I'll be here, forever and always."

"Thank-you." John whispered as he closed his eyes in a sense of relief.

The two of them rested their foreheads together, holding each other in place as neither of them dared to let the other go.

* * *

><p><em>Thinking of you wherever you are,<em>

_We pray for our sorrows to end,_

_and hope our hearts will blend._

_Now I'll step forward to realize this wish._

_and who knows,_

_Starting a new journey may not be so hard,_

_Or maybe, its already begun._

_There are many worlds,_

_But they share the same sky,_

_One Sky, One Destiny._

-Kingdom hearts, Kairi's poem.


End file.
